A Tale of Two Lenores

by Terry Mattingly

  A doctor joined Lenore and Shane where they stood, the woman’s eyes glistening with unshed tears, her companion’s arm wrapped protectively around her.

  “Ms. Collins,” spoke the doctor in a practiced calm voice introducing himself as Dr. Ward. He cast an inquiring look at Shane.

  Shane extended his hand. “Detective Shane Travers, family friend.”

  Ward acknowledged the detective before returning his attention to the patient’s daughter. “Your father is in critical condition. I suspect he is experiencing bleeding within the skull. The CT scan will confirm if that is the case. If that is the situation, he will need emergency neurosurgery.”

  “How long until we know?” Lenore asked.

  “In just a few minutes. The radiologist will review the scan results at once and let me know. After that it is a quick call to University Hospital and then air transport to Louisville.”

  “Will he live?” she asked. Her pleading voice and eyes imploring the doctor to give her the answer she wanted to hear.

  “I cannot answer that question,” Dr. Ward answered. “There is a chance he may not survive with or without surgery. Prepare yourself for the worse and pray for the best.”

  The rest of the afternoon was a blur to Lenore. When Jenny and Bill Travers arrived at St. Raphael’s, the flight crew were loading Jim Collins on the helicopter for transfer to Louisville. Shane left Lenore in care of his parents, promising to join her again soon. He returned to Twin Maples to meet with FBI agents.

  “Chin up, Collins,” he told her with bravo he did not feel. “The Professor is a tough man.”

  “I know he is Travers, but I am not as tough as he is.”

  “That’s why I’m here, Leni.” Shane held her in his arms, kissing her forehead quickly before leaving her to the care of his parents.

  Hours later, Lenore and Mr. and Mrs. Travers were enduring the long wait to hear the results of James Collins’ neuro surgery. Her father’s only sibling, Lenore’s Aunt Maddy and her husband, Carl drove from Lexington to wait with them. Night had claimed the city, enveloping it in darkness when the surgeon came to speak with the family. The surgeon explained how he removed a piece of James’ skull to relieve pressure on the brain and to remove a large blood clot. The next several hours are critical and the patient will remain in the Neurosurgical ICU for monitoring. He did not want to offer the family false hope. If her father did live, he will have significant brain damage and need months of rehabilitation.

  Lenore wanted to cry, puke, scream, throw something and find a place to hide from what the doctor was saying. This is not happening. Twenty-four hours ago, James Collins sent his daughter emails and pictures in preparation for a book father and daughter are writing. Now, their world was shaking, rocked by an earthquake off the Richter scale. Lenore feared a giant tsunami wave would follow.

  Aunt Maddy reached her Lenore’s hand, giving her slim fingers a squeeze. “We will handle this together, Lenore,” Maddy told her niece. “Whatever the outcome, we can handle this together.”

  Chapter 12

  It was thirty minutes shy of midnight before Shane could leave Hylton. FBI Special Agent David Scott had arrived at HPD and wanted a briefing with Chief Preston and Detective Travers. Two agents went undercover a few months ago to investigate a group of drug smugglers with connections to a syndicate. Leads led to someone in Hylton, Kentucky. They had been cultivating a friendship with a lesser known member of a syndicate organization and managed to wrangle an invitation to a retreat here in Hylton belonging to member higher up in the syndicate. The FBI lost contact with both agents five days ago. The grave Detective Travers discovered last night was that of one of the agents.

  “Why was HPD not made aware of a covert operation in out jurisdiction, especially one that may impact an operation of our own?” Shane could feel the pulse drumming in his neck, becoming angrier by the minute. HPD should be collaborating with the FBI on the case, not kept in the dark.

  “Our agents suspect a person or persons unknown, connected with HPD, is providing information to the organization regarding police activities. We could not take the risk of endangering the agents or the operation.”

  “What information is there to impart, since HPD was not aware of the operation?” Shane puzzled.

  “Seemingly mundane information such as number of officers on patrol when and where and upcoming events that call for shifting of available resources to a specific area. The information is not exactly top secret and does not seem to be concerning on the surface,” Scott admitted, “but it alerts the gang to areas to avoid and situations that require a shifting of police personnel.”

  “You will understand, Detective Travers, that under such circumstances we could not risk a joint operation with our agency not knowing the source of the information leak.” Special Agent Scott told the detective.

  “Did your agents offer any suggestions as to the source?” Chief Preston demanded.

  “As I have already mention, the suggested leak is someone connected with your department. There is, however, reason to believe the person or persons is not aware that he or she is providing information to the criminals.” Agent Scott noted. “Police officers vent to their families and friends all the time. Our agents do and I am sure your staff does also. The guys could be getting the information from a boyfriend or girlfriend of a police official. That person might be unwittingly passing the information to another person. All it takes is one stray, seemingly innocent remark said in front of the wrong person.”

  “So, now you trust us because you know the leak is not an officer? Or, is it because you have too?” Shane theorized.

  “A little of both, Detective Travers.” Agent Scott conceded.

  “Since we are now somewhat trustworthy in your estimation, tell us about this syndicate from New York.” Shane was aware his attitude was not endearing him to the agent, but currently he didn’t care.

  “There are actually two groups, Carlos and Luis Alvarez are the upper echelons of power in their respective group. So far, The FBI can find no proof that Carlos, the older brother, is involved in drug trafficking or prostitution. Our informant tells that Carlos Alvarez is aware of Luis’ role in these activities. He distances himself form Luis’ operation. Luis deals with the baser criminal activity such as drugs and prostitution/human trafficking. Carlos keeps a low profile, presenting as the quintessential refined gentleman; Luis is a party hardier type of man,” Scott explains. “Combined both groups are involved in money laundering, bribery, extortion, prostitution and drug trafficking. The organizations showed up on our radar five years ago. Carlos and Luis Alvarez are descendants of a well-known family in Spain once rumored to have connections to a syndicate in that country. The men are both wealthy philanthropists, supporting charities and sponsoring events throughout the city and state. They each own several successful businesses across the continent and abroad. The brothers’ social group includes several high-ranking and prominent faces in city, state, and national politics. Carlos owns a high-class nightclub in New York City, the Club Nocturno. Luis has an office at the club; we suspect he conducts the organization business from there.”

  “I have heard of the place. It is a hook-up place for New York’s rich and shameful,” Shane’s brows snapped together. Leni does not know how damn lucky she is to be away from that place.

  “Yes, rich and famous need only apply,” the agent remarked. “Everything is on the up and up with that place, from what we have been able to find out so far. Any suggestion of improbity involving a patron in good standing while at the club is handled in private. In return, the Club Nocturno avoids both scandal and scrutiny by police. There is no love lost between them and, in my opinion, neither brother would hesitate to sacrifice the other if push comes to shove. Luis is not above using his older brother’s ‘respectability’ to his advantage either.”

  “Carlos Alvarez owns the property where we found the body of your murdered agent,” Shane reported. “It is also the property
Mr. Collins was found. “He is in town now,” Shane apprised the agent. “I met him this morning at River Realty, the realty firm Mr. Collins went through to receive permission to visit Twin Maples. Turns out, a friend of mine worked at the club you mentioned until a few days ago. She quit because one of the brother’s changed her job description from bartender to hostess for his private party.”

  “That will be Luis,” Scott grunted. “Word is Carlos is always buying his brother out of trouble with women just to uphold the good reputation of the Alvarez name.”

  “Alvarez did suggest compensating my friend for her inconvenience, as he called his brother’s behavior.”

  “How did your friend react to that, Detective?” Scott was curious.

  “She turned him down in nothing flat and warned Alvarez her offender would not get off so easily next time,” Shane smiled.

  “Brave woman.” Scott remarked. “Women who will stand up to the Alvarez brothers are rare in that place.”

  “Mayor Andrews is negotiating with Alvarez today regarding purchasing land here in town,” Preston remarked. “He was in the meeting when I called him about this situation.”

  This piqued David Scott’s interest. “You routinely advise the mayor at the onset criminal investigations?”

  “Technically, the mayor is my boss. The former mayor and I worked closely for years. I went on with my business and kept him updated of situations as needed. This new mayor,” Preston scowled, “wants to know if I wipe my butt. He is big on transparency and press conferences. No secrets from the public, except the rising crime rate since he took office and decreased patrols. More interested in tourism and new business than safety of the citizens.”

  “Interesting,” Scott mused.

  “Aggravating is what he is,” Preston fumed.

  “What is aggravating is that the FBI has a sting operation here in our town and we didn’t know about it.” Shane still simmered with anger. “This could put some of our own undercover men in danger.”

  “Let it go, Shane,” Preston cautioned.

  “It had to be this way, Detective Travers.” There was no apology in Special Agent Scott voice.

  Shane realized his lack of sleep and worry about his friends were causing him to be both irritable and defensive, announced his intention of driving to Louisville to be with Lenore Collins.

  Scott and Preston waited until the detective was out of earshot to speak,

  “Well-played, Preston.” Scott’s complimented the chief.

  “Damn it, man, I do not like deceiving my officers, especially the innocent ones.” Preston moaned in frustration.

  “Believe me when I say I do understand,” Scott consoled the man. “But our informant must be found and stopped, and Luis Alvarez cannot realize we are on to him.”

  “I understand the necessity for this duplicity, I just don’t like it,” he returned. “Sorry about your agent, Scott. Any headway on finding his partner?”

  “No. I just hope she is still alive. She is my sister.” Special Agent Scott’s agony was palpable. He had to get out of here.

  At the door, the agent turned to Preston. “This Travers any good?”

  Preston nodded. “Travers is good.”

  Chapter 13

  Sunday, April 22, 2017

  By the time he arrived at University Hospital, it was after Midnight. Shane was exhausted but worry about the Professor and his concern for Collins over rode his desire for sleep. Plus, he wanted to be with Leni should Special Agent Scott decide to pay her a visit about the time she worked at Alvarez’s club.

  Bill Travers received the call informing him that his son will soon be at the hospital. He and Jim’s brother-in-law, Carl, discussed the current crisis while their wives sit at Jim’s bedside with Lenore.

  “Bill, if I am out of line please tell me,” Carl began, “but I wonder if Jim has spoken with you about his wishes for end of life care.”

  “You are not out of line, Carl,” Bill avowed. “Jim’s philosophy is that quality of life is more important than the quantity of life. Jim is a firm believer in the hereafter and has his spiritual life in order, he says. I drew up a new living will for Jim last year at his request. One never knows he says. He named Lenore and I as Medical Power of Attorney. I will, of course, leave the final decision to Lenore, giving her the information and support she needs. Jim will not want this treatment to continue if it means he will have no quality of life.”

  “In other words?” Carl needed clarification.

  “In other words, he would rather die than continue living attached to a breathing machine and feeding tubes.”

  “Have you told, Lenore yet Bill?”

  “I am waiting for Shane to arrive. I think he should be with her when the decision is made.”

  “Yes, you are right.” Carl agreed. “I have wished those two will eventually marry. It is obvious to everyone but themselves that they love each other.”

  “I agree. Jim and I have wished for a union between our children since they were in the cradle. I still think it will happen, but I am afraid now my friend won’t be around to see it,” Bill opined, his sadness crushing him.

  The emergence of Shane Travers put an end to the discussion

  Shane enveloped his father and Lenore’s Uncle Carl in a manly hug. “How is he Dad?”

  “The outlook is not good, son. The doctor told us that if Jim lives at all he will have significant brain damage.”

  “What does that mean Dad? What kind of damage?” Shane felt his heart in his throat.

  “I suppose the damage will depend on what part of the brain is damaged. Hopefully, we will know more in a few hours. One of the nurses mentioned Jim receiving another CT scan sometime.” Bill explained.

  “How is Leni holding up?”

  “Why don’t you go see for yourself, son,” Bill suggested. “Maddy and your mother need a break anyway.”

  Jenny watched her son’s nervous approach. He hesitated at the doorway. Shy or scared? Jenny knew not. Lenore sit at her father’s bedside, her eyes closed.

  “Come in, son,” Jenny invited the man.

  Lenore opened her eyes to look at Shane. “I don’t bite, Travers. Not yet, anyway. Come on in and sit with me a while. Your mom and Aunt Maddy can use a break from my poor company.”

  His mother and Maddy stood to leave and Shane stepped just inside the door and stood there to give each woman a hug. He claimed the chair vacated by Maddy, reaching for Lenore’s hand.

  Giving the hand a squeeze, Shane spoke. “How are you holding up, Collins?”

  “Coffee, prayers and friends are keeping me together right now.”

  They sat in silence, gazing on the silent form of James Collins, memories of the man flooding their minds.

  Lenore broke the silence. “A nurse came in before you arrived. She said there were changes in the pressure inside Dad’s skull. She is calling the doctor.”

  “Is that good or bad, Collins?”

  “The nurse, her name is Sarah, did not say but she looked more concerned than relieved. I don’t think the change is good,” she confided.

  Sarah returned to the room and seeing Shane asked if he is family also.

  “Shane Travers is my best frenemy,” Lenore smiled. “We have known each other all of our lives.”

  “Mr. Travers,” Sarah grasped his extended hand. “I know Ms. Collins is glad to have a friends and family around her now.” Turning to Lenore again, Sarah reported the results of her phone call to the neurosurgeon. “I spoke with the surgeon about the increase in pressure. He wants to do another CT now. We will be taking him to CT in just a few moments. Why don’t you take a break, get a little walk in while he is out for the test? It will do you good.”

  “She is right, Collins,” Travers supported the nurse’s suggestion. “We can walk and talk. I will update you on the case, if you want.”

  Lenore looked forlornly at her father before agreeing to leave the room. She squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek. “We�
��ll be back Daddy.”

  The couple updated Shane’s parents and Lenore’s aunt and uncle. “We are going to walk around while the Professor is out of his room,” Shane told them. “Call me if we need to hurry back.”

  “It is a good thing you remembered the secret room, Collins,” Shane remarked as they walked away from the others.

  “I had forgotten all about it until I walked in that old bathroom, then the memory of the secret rooms slammed into me. Remember when Charlie B. told us about the secret stairs?”

  “Oh yeah, I remember. Nothing would do but for you to get on that old widow’s walk.” Shane smiled remembering Leni’s insistence and the look of horror in Charlie’s eyes. Shane, of course, dared she wouldn’t go out there because she was a girl. Wrong thing to say. The three of them were lucky to get off the roof unscathed. They wouldn’t have been so lucky, if the adults had discovered them.

  Neither spoke after that, each loss childhood memories. Shane broke the silence, “Look Collins. I was out of line today when I accused you of, well, you know.”

  “When you accused me of liking being groped by lecherous men?” The accusation still stung, and the hurt was clear in her voice.

  “Yeah. I know you better than that.”

  “Yes, you do Travers. What you suggested was hurtful.”

  Leni’s voice held pain but no condemnation which encouraged him to continued. “I just did not like the thought of you being subjected to that kind of stuff. Then I realized I have stuck a few bills in a bra or two in my time, I got even madder. Forgive me?”

  “Will you forgive me for calling you a jerk?”

  Shane laughed for the first time in hours. “Well, I was being one. It doesn’t happen often, I will admit, but I was being a total ass today.”

  “Does not happen often? Come on Travers, how long I have known you?” she teased. “I can name more than a few times.”